Hidden Potential
by The Original Foxx
Summary: “The man who is born with a talent which he is meant to use finds his greatest happiness in using it.” Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe Pairing: KimArc


((For my Taisa. Since, he's kinda the one who inspired me to write more fanfics. Even if this is a pairing that he doesn't /love/.))

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**Hidden Potential**

"_The man who is born with a talent which he is meant to use finds his greatest happiness in using it." _

-Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

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A soft whistling could be heard throughout Central Headquarters, it seemed to flow everywhere. The warped war song that only a veteran of the Ishbal extermination would know. It was a tune that danced along one's spine sending little spasms up and down the vertebrae. That's exactly how he wanted it too.

He wanted everyone to know how good it felt to have something dance along your spine, the feeling of utter hopelessness in the face of certain death. OK, so maybe the tune didn't do that much, but it was still a eerie sound.

Roy Mustang slammed his pen onto his desk and glared at the Crimson Alchemist. The whistling stopped as Zolf looked up at him. He smirked and chuckled.

"Something wrong, Mustang?" He inquired curiously.

"Will you stop that whistling, Crimson? It's making it hard to focus." The colonel said, trying to remain calm. Kimbley just laughed.

"You're cute, Flame. What? Don't miss the war like I do? Or are you still running from your past like the coward you are?" He inquired as he sat up straight, his eyes boring into Roy's onyx ones. The Flame just snorted and shook his head.

"No. I'm just tired of hearing the same tune over and over again. It gets old after a while." The Crimson Alchemist frowned but before he could say anything to counter Roy, Archer walked in.

"Pardon me if I'm interrupting anything, but I need to see Major Kimbley. Now." He said, glaring at the psychopath, who just grinned and followed.

"Who am I to refuse my _Taisa_?" He asked playfully, winking at Roy. The colonel shivered and picked up his pen once more. This was going to be a long day.

Kimbley chortled he sat down in Archer's office. "So. What do you want, Frankie?" He purred with a Cheshire grin.

"You know damned well what I want, _Major_. You blew up the sixth warehouse, didn't you?" Kimbley just laughed, an obvious sign he was responsible for it.

"Of course I did. It was fun too. You know Archer, my father used to say, and he'd kill me if he heard me using it in this sense, if you have a talent you should enjoy using said talent." The big bad wolf chuckled softly. "Of course he had no idea I'd actually put that with alchemy, the 'demon's' magic."

"Indeed. You know, _Major_. I could send you to jail for you little 'talent'."

"Of course you could, Frankie, but then you'd lose your ace, now wouldn't you? And that'd be something horrid, hm?" The Crimson Alchemist said as he sauntered over to Archer's desk and planted himself right in the middle of it. "Admit it, Frankie. You'd miss me." The warmonger snorted and shook his head.

"Why would I miss a monster like you? You're nothing but a tool, I hope you realize that." That harsh blow didn't even seem to faze Kimbley as his smirk widened. He pulled Frank by the collar so they were mere inches apart.

"Come now, Frankie. You wouldn't miss me? Even a little?" He purred, yellow eyes boring into those icy blues. Suddenly the normally cool, calm and collected Frank Archer was made nervous by those eerie eyes. They seemed to belong to a predator, just waiting to kill it's quarry.

"No. I wouldn't, Major." Kimbley pushed the Colonel back against the far wall, a feral grin decorating his face.

"You seem nervous. You should relax, Frankie. It's not good to be that tense. You work entirely too hard." Archer attempted to push the psychopath off of him but to no avail. Kimbley was stronger than he looked. "Come now, Frankie. I know you want this. This is the whole reason you wanted me from Greed. To jealous of him, were you? Needed me for yourself. Let me clue you in on a secret about the great Crimson Alchemist, I am controlled by _no_ one, _Colonel_. I am my own man, and I'll do as a please. Got that, soldier?" He purred into Frank's pale ear, licking it gently. The warmonger shivered as Zolf pulled away. "I said...got that soldier?" He ordered, eyes narrowing.

"Yes, Crimson. I understand perfectly." The colonel said, pulling out his gun and pointing it at the big bad wolf.

"Now, now, Frankie. You know that isn't a good idea. You might stir the beast inside me." He purred softly, not a trace of fear in his voice. Frank Archer had not a clue to what Kimbley was, truly was. "The beast that lives inside me loves danger." He purred as he placed his palm on the gun. Ebony fur grew forth from his skin like grass as his fingers lengthened and claws sprouted from the tips of his fingers. The smirk on Zolf's face grew as his face lengthened into a muzzle complete with a maw full of razor sharp teeth.

Frank Archer lost all calm then, firing his gun out of fear of the creature in front of him. It ripped apart the Wolf's large paw. Kimbley gave a deep throated laugh as the appendage healed in a flurry of downy fluff.

"Aw. Look what you did now, Frankie. Such a bad boy that released the Big Bad Wolf and hurting his wittle pawsy." Archer regained his composure at the teasing tone of the large werewolf in front of him.

"So. You _were_ hiding something from me. Were you born like this, or was this a recent development?" The pale man asked, pale blue eyes never leaving the bulking black form. Where did all those muscles come from?

Kimbley just laughed again, a low rumble that seemed to shake the office. "Werepeople aren't created, _Colonel_, they are born." He said coldly. "You see, werepeople are rare in the big city. They prefer to live in small towns, like the one my mother birthed me in. We won't get into my entire past, but my mother hated me because of what I inherited from her. That _bitch_ dared to hide it from my father." The large monster shook with anger, but soon regained himself. "But that doesn't matter now, does it Frankie? All that matters is that us werepeople are very...needy."

"I'm not about to screw with a beast." Archer said coolly, firing another bullet into Zolf's shoulder, as a test. It healed like the first, a flurry of downy fur and the wound was gone. "You can heal any wound, yes?" The wolf rolled his golden eyes as he shifted back into his human form, gathering up his clothes that had fallen around him during the transformation.

"Yes. I suppose I can. In either form. Why do you think I survived the firing squad? I _was_ executed. I_ was_ supposed to die. But I dodged any fatal bullets by shifting form and blocking the bullets with my arms. I can heal anything as long as it's not a fatal blow. A bullet to the brain, heart or any other vital organ could kill me." He stated, pointing to his head and chest. "But otherwise, broken bones, gaping holes, anything. I'm immune. You get used to the pain. I've blown my arm off, just to see what would happen. It's makes a wonderful explosion." He slipped into his military uniform, pretending not to notice the staring Archer. "See something you like, Taisa?" He purred suggestively, sauntered over to his stunned superior.

"You're a lot better in that form." He muttered, looking away. "But that doesn't _change_ anything. You destroyed the sixth warehouse! That's where we kept all alchemical experiments!" He shouted coldly, putting his gun back in it's holster.

The Wolf rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes. I'm aware of that. But chimera and homunculi...they have nothing on _me._" He snarled, baring razor sharp teeth. "The Philosopher's Stone may be helpful, yes. For what though? Eternal life? It's not all it's cracked up to be, believe me. My mother killed herself it was so horrid." He said with a frown, the first frown of the day.

"Come now, Crimson. Don't tell me you'll be killing yourself over something so petty as living forever?" The Wolf glared at the warmonger.

"No. I'm not as weak as that_ bitch._" He barked coldly as he pushed Archer against the wall. He smirked and pulled out his gun pointing it at Zolf's head.

"I won't let you have the advantage, _Crimson._" He said coolly, threading his fingers through Zolf's silky black hair. The Wolf grinned as he placed his hands right under Archer's ribs, feeling the chemical make-up. He groaned softly, eyes closing. "Now who's in command here?" Archer asked, tugging at the locks of hair as he ripped apart the ribbon holding it in it's tight tail. Feral yellow eyes snapped open at those words.

"You are, Colonel. That is, until we get home tonight. Remember, one should enjoy the talent he was born with. Expect more explosions." He purred with a wink before turning to go back to Roy's office. Archer smirked and nodded.

"Of course Major. But please, clean yourself up before you go, you are a mess." The colonel said as he sat back down and reorganized his desk. The Crimson Alchemist nodded and tied his hair back in the left over ribbon. "Of course, Taisa." The Wolf said with a wink before departing the office.


End file.
